Death Song

by K Ryn

  "Jim... Jim... !"

  "I'm here, Chief." Jim moved to where he could see a set of doors which he hoped would lead out into another stairwell.

  "Good... to hear... your voice..." Blair whispered. "I... was getting... worried..."

  "Nothing to worry about," Jim answered, his attention on what he thought was a flicker of movement in the window of the doorway. Was Dirkson waiting there? "Just had a little chat session with our host."

  "Go after... him..." Blair choked out.

  "I will, after you're out of here."

  "Forget... that..." Blair argued. "Just get... this guy... before... he gets you..."

  As if Blair's words had been a signal, the door that he'd been watching suddenly swung inward. Jim dove to his left, continuing to roll further in that direction as a burst from a flame-thrower seared through the crates where he'd been crouched.

  Maniacal laughter roared through the headset, but Jim ignored it and lurched to his feet.

  The Sentinel scrambled toward the second location that he'd targeted, dodging around pieces of equipment. A warning tingle raced up his spine and he slid to a stop, just in time to avoid a trip wire. He took a quick look and found three more triggers -- it was pure blind luck that he'd managed to avoid them.

  Stepping carefully around the wires, he listened intently for signs of pursuit. Dirkson's voice echoed in the headset.

  "Nice move, Jim-bo. You're really making a game of this, although I admit I'm a little disappointed that you've managed to avoid a few of my more interesting surprises."

  Ignoring the jibes, Jim kept moving. Picking his way around smaller piles of skidded crates he was rewarded with the sight of another flight of stairs.

  "I am a little concerned about your partner though. I'm not sure he's going to make it through to the deadline. He doesn't look very good."

  Jim gritted his teeth and eyed the steps carefully, looking for the same kind of booby traps he'd seen on the first stairwell.

  "I tell you what Jim-bo, since you're making such good progress and in the interest of fairness, I believe I'll move the deadline up -- to midnight."

  Jim glanced down at his watch -- that gave him just under 90 minutes.

  "Maybe I'll just go check on how he's doing..." he heard Dirkson murmur.

  "Guess that means I'm too much of an opponent," Jim sneered.

  "I can take you out any time I want!"

  "Then prove it," Jim challenged, trying to keep Dirkson's attention focused away from Blair.

  "No... I believe I'll let you sweat a little longer. I want you wondering where I am... what I'm doing... who I'm with..." there was a pause and then Dirkson's voice came on again. "Watch your six, Jim-bo."

  Automatically, Jim turned to look behind him, his gun coming out of its holster. He heard the ring of Dirkson's laughter in the headset, then the click that meant he'd signed off.

  And heard his Guide's tortured breathing. He considered warning Blair that Dirkson might be on his way, but decided against it.

  "You holding up okay, Chief?"

  "... yeah..." Blair's answer was accompanied by another round of coughing.

  The Sentinel forced himself to maintain control. Dirkson was trying to goad him into moving faster, into making a mistake. And that was what would get both he and his Guide killed. Was Dirkson actually going to where he was keeping Blair or was it a trick to lull Jim into lowering his guard? There was no way of telling.

  With his senses extended to maximum, Jim scanned the stairs again, but found no evidence of traps. He was about to put his hand on the railing when he paused and examined it closely. There was a trace of a familiar chemical odor and he nodded, his face tight and grim. He took the steps, cautiously, careful to stay clear of the handrail.

  Again it was a single flight of stairs, but this time there were three doors at the top. He spent a few moments examining each, finding two of them wired. He eyed the third suspiciously. This was the door Dirkson wanted him to use.

  Time to take control of the game, Jim decided, turning to one of the other doors.

  He worked carefully, ignoring the screaming clock in his head that ticked away the minutes that Blair had left. Snapping the last clip in place to reroute the charge, he gave the door a gentle push and it swung inward. Jim rose to his feet and quickly moved into another corridor.

  This floor must have been office support, Jim realized, angling in the direction that he thought would lead him closer to Blair's location. He pulled a handful of small pebbles out of his pocket and threw them ahead of him on the floor. His small detectors sprang no traps and he moved forward again.

  He'd covered the length of the corridor when a burst of coughing and an agonized groan echoed through the headset.

  "Sandburg... Blair, can you hear me?" he asked urgently. "Just take it easy..."

  Alone in the darkness, the younger man was in no shape to listen. Another coughing fit hit him and Blair struggled against it, gasping for air, panic setting in.

  Jim heard the desperate sounds in his headset and increased his pace, talking softly and encouragingly at the same time.

  "Hold on Chief... do you hear me? Focus on something... you've got to concentrate..."

  But Blair was gripped by a panic fueled by fear for his Sentinel, by the blows he'd taken to the head, by the sense of numbness creeping through him. He pulled desperately at the rope, throwing his weight against it.

  "Chief, take it easy!" Jim ordered, moving faster now, urged on by his Guide's sobs of frustration and pain.

  There was a sudden click and Dirkson's voice broke in.

  "Your partner's losing it," Dirkson warned, an excited edge to his voice. "You better find some way to settle him down or his actions are going to evoke some very loud consequences."

  As Dirkson clicked off again, Jim jerked to a stop, the meaning of the threat suddenly clear.

  "Blair!" he almost shouted into the com link. "Blair listen to me! Don't move. Do you hear me? He's got explosives rigged to you somehow. If you move you're going to set them off! Don't do anything but breathe, do you understand me?"

  There was a long moment of silence filled only with his Guide's uneven breathing. Finally the Sentinel heard a whispered, "Yes". It was a mix of pain, panic and despair, but the sounds of movement were gone.

  "Okay, that's good, Chief," Jim murmured as encouragingly as he could. "Just stay as still as you can. Try to focus on something... something you can see."

  "... no light..." Blair whispered back, his voice more strained than ever.

  Jim cursed Dirkson silently, the thirst for vengeance growing stronger. He forced himself to push the desire aside -- his Guide needed him to be in control now, more than ever.

  "All right... take it easy... we'll just try something else..." he temporized, his mind working rapidly to find another solution.

  "You're sure... about... the explosives?"

  "Dirkson mentioned a that there would be a small surprise waiting when I got to you," Jim answered evenly. "I'd guess that's what he meant."

  "Talk about... overkill... Guess... that's it then... no point... in your getting... any closer..."

  "Don't you give up on me!"

  "Who knows... maybe I'll get lucky... if he comes back... maybe I can... take him out... with me..." the younger man responded, his voice deadly calm.

  "Blair, listen to me, damn it!" Jim barked into the headset, moving forward, his eyes scanning the corridor for the next doorway. "You're the Observer, remember? You're supposed to follow my orders. Now listen to my voice. Close your eyes and just listen..."

  Jim shifted his voice into an even, almost sing-song tone.

  "You remember that meditation trick you tried to teach me? The one where you imagine a peaceful place? I'm going to walk you through it."

  "Jim... I..."

  "Just listen... build the picture in your mind... there's a red sun..."

  Jim pitched his voice lower as he sought to lead his Guide into the tr
ance- like state, hoping to keep him calm. He kept talking as he moved, avoiding one booby trap and then another. He kept at it for a full ten minutes and slowly he heard the sound of Blair's breathing start to ease. He swallowed against the dryness in his own throat and continued to speak quietly, his voice an invisible lifeline that the younger man clung to desperately.

  Just as he began to allow himself to hope that it might be working, he heard a click and immediately lost the sound of Blair's breathing.

  "Never thought I'd hear that mystical mumbo-jumbo from you, Ellison."

  "You always had a closed mind, Dirkson, that was your problem from the start."

  "Wrong Jim-bo. You were my problem. You were the one who cost me nine years of my life."

  "I wasn't the one who took five men to their deaths."

  "And I listened to them die... one by one..." Dirkson whispered savagely. "And with every one, I swore I'd get even with you."

  Several unconnected thoughts suddenly clicked together in Jim's mind. "The Hibani..."

  "That's right," Dirkson spat back. "The Hibani. Your partner studied them, but he's lucky... he's never met them... they don't let outsiders leave their territory."

  "But you did," Jim said softly, his mind turning over what he knew of the warrior caste society.

  "If you manage to survive their torture you're no longer an outsider, Jim-bo. You become one of the tribe."

  "To do that you'd have to kill one of your own people," Jim said softly, remembering what Blair had deciphered out of the odd script. "Is that what happened? Did you kill your men so that you could survive?"

  "I did what I had to do... The Hibani have an incredible number of ways to kill, did you know that, Jim-bo? They're adept at creating pain... they know all the points of the body to affect... and fire is one of their favorite stimulants..."

  His ramblings convinced Jim as nothing else had that Dirkson was insane. He started moving faster, making his way through the corridors filled with vacant offices, searching intently for a way to the next level. He'd switched into the high gear mode he'd experienced earlier, praying that Blair could hold onto the tenuous balance of the trance on his own. On one level he was almost painfully aware of the dangers around him through his hyperextended senses. On another, he could feel the drain in his own energies, but he ignored it, driven by the need to finish the game before Dirkson turned his attention back to Blair.

  He edged around another corner and caught sight of a staircase at the far end. He glanced back over his shoulder, then scanned the hallway again. There seemed to be irregularities in the flooring tiles and he tossed his final handful of pebbles across them. Some of them skittered oddly as if they'd hit something and Jim stared down at the tiles grimly.

  Pressure mines, he realized.

  The whole corridor was scattered with them, but now that he knew they were there, he also knew how to pick his way through. Leapfrogging from one safe spot to another, he crossed to the base of the stairwell. Checking it out thoroughly, he felt a surge of despair. Both the steps and the railings were booby trapped and he didn't have the time or means to disarm them.

  He realized that Dirkson was still rambling, but that he'd switched to reminiscing about one of their old missions.

  "'Course we had to blow them away, didn't we? To keep up from seeing what we were really after... you remember what Colonel Haraway said when we got back from that mission..."

  Dirkson rattled on, switching to another story, but his words had given Jim an idea. Looking up at the drop ceiling, he saw that some of the tiles had fallen in, revealing a system of large, metal air ducts. He searched further, hunting for the opening to the ventilation system, and finally located the grilled vent entrance...

  He repeated his leapfrog pattern, crossing back to the end of the corridor until he was clear of the traps. Deciding that the vent and ductwork was big enough to hold him, he dodged back into one of the offices, grabbed a stool and a small box of discarded metal parts. He set the stool down under the opening and climbed up, releasing the catch on the vent door. Pulling himself into the ductwork, he strained to look down the dark length of the metal shaft. He allowed himself a grim, satisfied smile when he saw grilled openings at both the top and 'floor' of the metal tube. He now had another way to the fourth floor -- all he had to do was crawl through and find an upward exit . Preferably one close to where Blair was being kept.

  Now he needed a distraction. Balancing himself, he reached down and pulled the stool up into the duct. He studied the floor and the staircase for a moment, then threw the open box of machine parts toward the stairs. As soon as he'd thrown it, he lunged in the opposite direction down the shaft.

  The duct shuddered with a series of violent explosions. In his mind's eye, Jim "saw" the parts fall randomly onto the floor, setting off mines along corridor, the final explosion coming as the box itself fell on the staircase steps. He held his breath as Dirkson's voice suddenly fell silent. His plan hinged on Dirkson believing that he had made a desperate run for the stairs and gotten caught in the traps. If he did believe it, or even if he wasn't sure, he'd come to investigate, and that would pull him away from Blair, buying Jim the time he needed to free his partner.

  "Jim-bo? Jim-bo are you there? Sounds like you finally made a mistake, buddy..." Dirkson giggled madly.

  There was a click in the headset -- Dirkson bringing Blair into the loop.

  "Hey, kid... did you hear that? Your partner blew it. Literally blew it!"

  Jim shut his eyes, cringing at Blair's horrified groan.

  "Guess the game's just about over, Sandburg," Dirkson chuckled gleefully. "I'll go check out Ellison's corpse and then you and I will finish off our business."

  Dirkson's insane laughter rang through the headset and then it grew silent except for Blair's soft sobbing.

  "Oh, man... Jim..."

  Scrambling forward on his hands and knees, Jim searched for a way upward. He'd bought the precious minutes he'd wanted and no matter how much he ached to reassure his Guide, he couldn't respond over the com link and risk Dirkson realizing he'd been tricked.

  Fortunately it seemed like his luck was holding. He found the opening he wanted within minutes and climbed out onto another concrete floor. The darkness was nearly complete, and even with his Sentinel vision, Jim could barely see more than a few feet in any direction.

  A soft, rasping noise drew him to the right. The sound hadn't come from the headset, but he was sure it was Blair. He edged forward, skirting skids of crates as he crossed the floor. He ducked around another pile and froze when he caught sight of his Guide, hanging by the wrists from a rope that disappeared upward into the darkness. He watched closely, but saw no sign of movement in his friend and for a moment he feared he had come too late.

  With his own pulse pounding in his ears, it took him several long moments to focus on the younger man's familiar heartbeat. It was slightly fast, but it was steady. Relieved that his Guide was still alive, Jim had to keep himself from bounding to his partner's side. He forced himself to remain silent and approach carefully -- the conversation he'd overheard could have been Dirkson's own trap to catch him off guard. The Sentinel stayed alert, searching for any sign of his opponent.

  When he was only a dozen feet behind his Guide, he saw the explosives -- a small innocuous looking package rested on the floor where the rope that held Blair was tied off. Jim did one more quick scan around and then moved quickly to his partner's side.

  Pulling off his headset, he reached out and removed Blair's as well. Startled, the younger man automatically shifted away as if he were trying to avoid a blow.

  "Easy... it's me," Jim whispered, placing his hand gently at the back of his Guide's head.

  The whispered response was filled with surprise and doubt. "... Jim...?"

  "Easy..." Realizing that Blair couldn't see him in the darkness, Jim reached out to steady the grad student's swinging body, giving him a gentle squeeze in reassurance.

  "I... I thou
ght... he said..." Blair stammered in confusion. He leaned his head into the support of Jim's hand, groaning as a coughing fit jarred his body.

  "I managed a little diversion of my own. Now just hold on and try to breathe... slowly..."

  A shudder rippled through the younger man. He drew a deeper breath and another coughing fit hit him.

  "Slowly..." Jim cautioned, holding him until the worst of the spasms had passed.

  "Okay... let's get you down from there." Jim eased to a crouch next to the explosives. He did a quick check for Dirkson, then pulled out a small penlight. "Looks like a pressure package," he explained, studying both the explosives and the rope attached to them.

  "Can you... disarm it?" Blair shifted slightly so that he could look back at Jim.

  "It's just a matter of figuring out what triggers the explosives. Don't move," Jim ordered and Blair froze. "Dirkson used to be pretty fond of these when I knew him... in Covert Ops..." The Sentinel's eyes traveled the length of the rope to where it rested on a pulley and then down to where it was tied to the restraints around his Guide's wrists.

  "Great..." Blair groaned. "Covert Ops... and I thought... he was just... crazy..."

  "You got that part right," Jim agreed, rising to his feet. He took a quick look around and saw what he was looking for. He dragged a crate over to Blair's side and then pulled a length of nylon rope from around his waist.

  Blair coughed again, closing his eyes and resting his head on his arms as he struggled for breath. "... this... is crazy, man... don't try it... just... get out of here..."

  "For an Observer, you don't listen very well," Jim muttered, climbing on top of the crate and gingerly looping the nylon rope around the other rope just above Blair's wrists. "We're getting out of here together. Now just hold still."

  Satisfied that the rope was secure, he jumped down and pulled it taut, securing it around the crate. Then he climbed back up next to Blair, pulling out a hunting knife and putting his hand on the back of Blair's neck again for a brief moment to get his attention.